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Arcanists
Magic is ill-defined and even more poorly understood. Every culture and belief system has its own varied theories and ways of engaging with it—indeed every individual. Perhaps the one thing that can be agreed upon? It is beyond the scope of our world. Whatever it is, the earthling may not master it, only access it. It should come as no surprise, then, that most legitimate forms of magic are taught and practiced within religious institutions. Even the more scientific-minded mages who created magecraft to free themselves from the gods, eventually built a religion to regulate and validate themselves. Practitioners of these Institutionally sanctioned Magics are called Arcanists. They include Enchanters, Mages and Sorcerers. Magic users that fall outside these (specifically human and colonialist) bounds are generally referred to as Occultists. They include Witches and some Diviners, as well as the Old World Daihus and Shamans. Note that the lines between these categories are thin and it is not uncommon for magic-users to practice in more than one tradition, or to have abilities from disparate traditions. Sorcerers, especially, are found in nearly every other circle. Magic Theory Two theories of magic are dominant in the human world. The contemporary Dalgun theory perceives magic as alien energy coming from different planes of existence; namely, the the Expanse, the Deep, the Void, and the Dream. In these planes, the rules are different, and by traveling through these planes or opening gates to them, one is able to temporarily bend the rules of our own reality. The gods, according to the Dalgun, hail from the Unified Plane, in which all planes are one, and therefore have complete wisdom and mastery over magic. Cosmacans reject the supremacy of the gods and believe instead in the supremacy of the Four Fundamental Forces: the Cosmic Force (Cosmaca), the Primal Force (Primalis), the Ethereal Force (Etherium), and the Civic Force (Civis). All existence, according to the Cosmacans, is a “temporary interaction” between the forces, and to adjust existence is a simple matter of adjusting those interactions. In practice, of course, this requires years of training and study, and the deeper one digs, the more complex and contradictory the Forces reveal themselves to be. Cosmacan magic, better known as magecraft, is less a manipulation of the Forces, and more a communion or negotiation with them. Attempts have been made to synthesize these two theories, most successfully by the Astorian branch of Cosmaca, but for the most part these two conceptions of magic have remained distinct and in stubborn opposition. Each can dismantle or explain away the other, and each sinks ever deeper into its own theoretical and theological development as the years go on. Mages Like all magic, Magecraft is not just a practice, but a philosophy. So mages tend to be of a particular ilk; the years hunched over books, sitting in meditation, painstakingly seeking, measuring, and collecting absurdly specific items with verified histories...all this attracts or produces exceptionally studious and fastidious people. And beyond this, even if they do not buy into the intricate doctrines of their particular Cosmacan denomination, they tend to respect the vastness of the universe and a rational understanding of the world. A rational understanding does not, however, mean a scientific one, for the rules of advanced magecraft are haphazard and arbitrary; more custom than law. To deal seriously in the Fundamental Forces, after all, is to forge a strange relationship with something terrifically inhuman, something deeper and darker and more relentless than any man or god. It is no wonder that the best mages are a lethal combination of obsessive, clever, and unhinged. Magecraft is the dominant form of magic in the human world, developed by humanity to defy and later destroy their gods. In principle, anyone can learn magecraft. In practice, the majority of mages are human and from at least well-to-do backgrounds. Elementary Skills At its core, magecraft is a four step process: Perception, Prediction (also known as Premediation), Interaction, and Mediation, which involves four skills that every fledgling mage must perfect. Two of them are quite ancient and used in nearly all magic—Hieroception and Hieroacty. The other two were more or less invented by Mages. Hieroception is the ability to sense and interpret the presence and flow of the Fundamental Forces. It is a sense that all living creatures possess, being a part of the Forces themselves, though it must be practiced and honed intensively to collect the kind of data required to perform magic. Hieroception has been described as a spacial/corporeal awareness that extends beyond the self, or, more poetically, “like the memory of a taste, felt in the mouth of a river.” Note: Anyone adept in Hieroception may be called a Seer, though that title is now more commonly used to refer specifically to Mage-Seers (see below). Hieroacty is the ability to disrupt, or “prick,” the flow of a Fundamental Force to create a manifestation—some physical, spiritual, or temporal change in the world. All living things possess this ability, being a part of the Forces themselves, though much practice and training is required to use it consistently and with any amount of control. Hieroacty forms the basis of magic in many systems, but according to Cosmacan theory, it is not magic in it of itself. Simply disturbing a Force can have unpredictable and devastating results. As many unfortunate souls have found, “to wake the beast is not to master it.” Note: Hieroacty is related to Hieroception, and indeed some think of both as part of a broader, continuous function called Hieronomy or Hieropsychosity. Magisthenics is the study of the Fundamental Forces in action. Namely, how they interact, or Mediate each other. To mages, the most important kind of Mediation is the technique Maesic called Oppositional Mediation, in which two or more Fundamental Forces are activated at the same time in order to oppose each other. While the Forces on their own are almost totally unpredictable, when confronted with another Force they tend to act more consistently and, more importantly, do not destroy the one who awakened them. As it is said in Makala, “call one dragon to come for a feeding, call two dragons to come for a fight.” Magisthenics is the most scientific/mathematical branch of Mage Studies, as well as the most academic, and is used to measure and predict the results of Mage maneuvers in an effort to perform and create new spells. While it is a critical part of practicing magecraft, it cannot be completely relied on—its conclusions being mostly theoretical and applicable only in ideal conditions. It must be combined with Maesetics to produce results. Maesetics is the magical and philosophical tradition at the heart of Magecraft, concerned with the nature of the Fundamental Forces. While the science of predicting what will happen when two Forces clash is the substance of Magisthenics, the art of inducing, navigating, and adjusting that conflict to produce the desired effects—that is Maesetics. As Aradne said, “of magic, logic makes the bones, but poetry makes the flesh.” And indeed, the daunting task of bringing a spell to life requires more than just tables and equations. It requires instinct and sensibility. For in order to cunningly pit one Force against another, one must effectively form relationships with the raw impulses of the universe; to develop a method of nudging primordial energies in a slightly different direction. While there are mantras and guidelines in this endeavor, the process is mostly undertaken by the mage herself. Harrowing visions, extreme physical sensations, a giant eye that peers into her darkest thoughts—all par for the course as she lingers in meditation on the Forces and all their subtleties. Then she must explore for herself what kinds of objects, locations, and states of mind are heavy with them: with death, life, hunger, memory, struggle, survival, change, and so on. She must bring these loci together in varying combinations (say, an old shoe with the scent of a lover, brought to a busy marketplace) and discover how the Forces cling and press, speak and sigh, within her and betwixt everything. Only then can she begin to discover how they will respond to her direction. Disciplines Magecraft consists of four different approaches to magic, called Disciplines. All mages must train in the basics of each Discipline to reach Adept level and become a Generalist. Specializing in one or more Disciplines makes a Master Mage. Paramancy is the mage form of Divination, and primarily concerns itself with the collection of information. It can be used to detect movement at long distances, locate individuals, map ground, search minds, spy on conversations, and much more. Paramancy is distinct from simple Hieroception in the way echolocation is distinct from simple hearing. It is an active, rather than passive act, that involves sending disruptions, or “inquests,” into the object of study to collect data from its response. For this reason, Paramancy is inherently detectable (if you know what you’re looking for) and able to be counteracted. In fact, the Paracasting sub-branch, once developed to send messages over long distances, is now primarily focused on tampering with Paramancy to return false, even illusory data. Masters of Paramancy are called Mage-Seers, or more commonly, Seers. Alchemy deals in the physical transformation of matter. It is used to create new materials, to imbue materials with new properties, and to create poisons and poultices. Masters of Alchemy are called Mage-Alchemists, or simply Alchemists. It was the Alchemists who created the ultralight metal Elycrium, the disastrously water-repellent Silver Fibers and textiles, and the classic, impossibly balanced half wood, half ceramic coins of Old Maslan. Alchemy is slow, repetitive, and mind-numbing work; difficult to accomplish and even more difficult to reverse. But highly, highly profitable. By the nature of their work, Alchemists are often also Adepts or Masters of a material trade, conventional herbalism, or chemistry. Charistry, more archaically known as Charmaturgy, is the art and craft of creating small-scale, self-sustaining spells called charms, usually in the form of objects that perform consistently: a marble that seals the chest it sits in, a pendant that emits a low gravity field; a wand, a stave, a staff, or the instrument that has replaced all three: the Magician’s String. Which, like a faithful dog, can be trained to do a couple neat tricks. Magicians, the Master Charmaturges, are veritable engineers of magic; building weapons, vehicles, buildings, and elegant little machines that buzz alongside them, doing their bidding. Charms are not alchemical themselves, even if they are made of alchemical materials. That is to say, Magicians do not affect permanent physical change in materials, but assemble different materials and objects to create their charms. The charms themselves are tied to or activated by specific individuals, gestures, and commands. Magicians are the most common Master Mages. Note: Magecraft can be quite lucrative, but its highly involved nature means that the products of Alchemy and Charistry have been thus far impossible to mass-produce. To find a way to do so would be no less than the inciting triumph of a new age. Wizardry, the rarest and most prestigious branch of the Mage arts, is the raw mastery of complex systems. It requires deep knowledge and complete intimacy with a specific, capital L Locus: anything from a single porcelain tea cup to an entire forest, or even something like grief; anything that is conceptually distinct and can be studied for its Maesetic composition. The ambition of the Wizard is to know a thing so well that it responds to her almost at will. But response is not control. When her relationship to it is good, it may cooperate. When rapport is poor, it lashes out. And there is a danger to intimacy, too, even when it is positive. The closer a Wizard draws to her Locus, the closer it draws to her. As she influences it, so it influences her, becomes a part of her as she, in turn, is engulfed. The strongest spells will consume her altogether. Schools In addition to the four Disciplines, there are also four Major Schools of Magecraft (also known as Styles), which represent differing philosophies on the practice and utility of magic. Each School has its own set of canonical spells, pedagogical texts, and practical specialties when it comes to the development of new spells. Each has an informal affinity with one of the Four Fundamental Forces. The Schools all arose out of their own distinct historical and religious circumstances, but unlike the Cosmacan faiths that birthed them, the Schools have crossed borders easily and remained relatively apolitical. While each School remains the primary tradition within their culture of origin, mage universities around the world are eager to demonstrate their prestige by teaching all four. Students, in turn, have the option of specializing in a particular style. Numerous other schools of magic (Minor Schools) also exist, a few of which are also taught in official settings; most of which are not. The Masslean School is the oldest of the Major Schools, founded by the inventors of magecraft in Eastern Celtheste and closely associated with Cosmaca, the Cosmic Force. Mostly concerned with a pure academic pursuit of magical progress, spells are prized for their simplicity, efficiency, and elegance: gravitational fields, light and combustion--lots of glowing, orbiting, and spinning. Much of the magic practiced in this style is used to demonstrate principles in lab settings rather than for practical use. With all the data gathering and experimentation involved, the tradition values Alchemists and Seers especially. Philosophy, Astronomy, and Arconology are often studied alongside Masslean Texts, as well as the Fine Arts and the most classic Material Trades. The Vadranese School is the largest of the Major Schools, developed by the imperial mages of the South Vadraedic, who adopted magecraft to fight the gods. It is associated with Primalis, the Primal Force, as well as both the Keaslian and Marisian churches. Most Vadranese spells are practical and martial, often offensive, defensive, and medical in nature. The Vadranese style, which draws strength and inspiration from the earth and its elements, is well complemented by studies in Physiogy, the Natural Sciences, and any Wilderist training. The School favors Magicians and Wizards above all. A difference does exist between the more Makalan-Keaslian branch and the Sunyan-Marisian branch. Keaslian spells are more classic, geared towards simple functions of warfare and survival: the conjuring of weapons, manipulation of fire, improvements to agriculture, the taming of wild beasts, etc. Marisians take the same ideas and blow them up to grander, more expansionist proportions: calling down floods and plagues, reanimating armies of the dead, even raising whole islands out of hot-spots in the ocean. Unsurprisingly, the Vadranese school has, over time, become heavily associated with colonialism. The Astorian School (or Nestorian School) is the smallest of the Major Schools, founded in Western Celtheste to make peace during the Cosmacan wars. It is associated with Etherium, the Ethereal Force. Often overlooked for its more mystical, spiritual, introspective interests, the Astorian School tends to deal in psychologies, memory, perception, thought, and illusion. Astorian spells might help people see things they weren’t able to before, speak to their memories of the dead, or enter and explore their dreams. Seers, of course, are most valued within the school, alongside Wizards. Study of Theology, Antiquarianism, and other (non-Cosmacan) forms of magic, all aid in Astorian spellcasting. The Anteri School is the newest of the Major Schools, founded by the currently ascendant Capalesians to integrate magecraft into every aspect of their Empire’s infrastructure. The school, associated with Civis, the Civic Force, considers magic to be indistinguishable from technology, and promotes the liberal use of magecraft in everyday life. Anteri spells innovate new ways to produce goods, reconceive of architecture and public space, enhance naval and military capabilities, and much more. Building and Engineering are natural extensions of this Style. Magicians and Alchemists are at the fore. Mages that develop strong fluencies in one of the four Schools may join an international Fellowship, also known as Societies, Clubs, or Fraternities: the Centre Club (Aka the Masslean Club), the Vadranese, the Society Astoria International (Aka Internaut, or more rarely Astoria), and the Anteri Club. These societies, with their hidden lounges and clubhouses around the world, are something of an open secret among Mages, a place for the best and the brightest to network and share knowledge. Other clubs exist, organized around Minor Schools, or some other magical philosophy or curiosity. Many of these are far more secretive and exclusive. Enchanters Enchantment was the magic of the gods; an intricate gift to their chosen favorites. And like the gods themselves, all that is left of their gift is fragile, scattered ruins. But even ruins can offer shelter in a storm, or be collapsed onto an enemy. And the modern Enchanter intends to do so—to salvage every bit of utility they can from the figurative and sometimes literal debris of the last age. Those who dare to navigate these crumbling, often dangerous straits, tend to be bold, energetic people, with enough chaos and deathwishing within them to leap into fires instead of away from them. They are tenacious enough to keep prying at seeming dead ends, eccentric or unconventional enough to think their way past one. They must love the puzzle and the trial of it, must have a sense of humor about failure and the unexpected. And like the gods themselves, whom they seek to remember and understand, they must have a bit of flair, a perhaps overdeveloped ego; a fullness of self that might be inspiring or destructive or, more often, both. Historical Enchanters True Enchanters, who wielded the full power of the gods, are an extinct breed, though the memory of them remains cogent. This was a magic draped in signs, seals, and speech: a priest muttering a prayer, runes splattered across temple walls, fine script engraved into a blade or breastplate. Enchantment, after all, hinged on an ability to communicate with the gods, or at least comprehend their guidance. Its extravagant symbologies were gifts (often to a loyal ruling class), arcane languages used to invoke the Alien Planes; dictions and grammars used to navigate them, to find safe pathways laid out by the Immortals. All this arcane knowledge was kept by Cleric-Enchanters, known in some traditions as Gatekeepers or Keepers. These were the priests and orderlies who looked after temples and interfaced with the gods on behalf of their people. They were often taught a rudimentary understanding of godly symbolage and had a limited ability to enchant objects and lay wards. The most powerful Clerics had the ear of the gods, and could call on their strength in times of need—the “Point and Pray,” method, known as Postulance. The Lay-Enchanters, however, were afforded a much higher level of fluency, and a more autonomous command over the magic. They were explorers of the sacred heavens and depths, the dreams of man and the realms beyond; exceptional people, blessed by the Immortals with prophetic dreams or fat grimoires. They returned from their journeys with empyrean auras about them, with uncanny creatures and other spoils in tow. But their true reward was knowledge: a heightened vision of the cracks and fissures of this earthly plane—and the savvy to exploit them. They opened gateways through which spilled songs, or aromas, or blankets of sleep, to enchant whole palaces and islands, to build impossible cities, and to toy with peasants and princes. But even these storied figures paled in comparison to the Sant-Enchanters, known also as Saints or Guides, who were not just Enchanters, but Enchantments themselves. They were messengers and agents of the Immortal Houses; favored demigods, faithful champions, or lost souls, usually bound and magically transformed at the moment of their death. Outside their indispensable presence in old tales and histories, the Saints are best known for their major role in the latter Wars against the Gods; leading the armies of their weakened masters, devastating the rebel forces, and finally dying in agonizing, spectacular fashion. I Modern Enchanters Every god and pantheon was different, of course, and much of humanity’s history with them has been erased or paved over with Cosmacan narratives. So there is no certainty that all or even most Enchantment worked this way. Nevertheless, what remains remains. Kings, even Cosmacan ones, still paint their ancient, god-given sigils on shields and thrones, hoping the old magic will rub off. And sometimes it does, though perhaps not in the they wanted it to. The ancient mechanisms of otherworldly power that once propped up the Immortals and their followers are broken—but not abolished. Many survive, or at least persist in some form; warped and distressed, aging and decaying. To attempt Enchantment today is to whip a wounded animal, to ground flower in half a mill, or to invade a city with a two thousand year old map. Nothing works quite the way it should, though it can be repurposed and reinterpreted. Modern day Oracles use old methods of divination grounded in, but not confined to, the methods of their ancient forebears. The information they acquire is often far hazier than that of their Mage-Seer counterparts, but also less susceptible to interference. Blade Encantes still wield the mystical weapons of the Dalgun Armies, though they barely number in the thousands now. A Cleric or a Vigilant (temple guard) may manage to salvage an old healing rod or an enchanted spear, but just as many Dalgun relics have been appropriated by mercenaries, or worse, mages, to be incorporated into their Charms and Spells. In fact, anyone who studies or uses ancient magical paraphernalia might consider themselves a modern day Enchanter, though it might be more accurate to call them a Theurgist. Only the Enekhite Necromancers and the Arcurian Thaumaturges (an archaic name for Theurgists) remain dedicated to Theurgy as a religious endeavor, and even they are happy to swap knowledge and artifacts with the heretics that populate the secular Theurgical Societies. This is not to say that genuine Enchantment is gone from the world altogether. We can only assume that where the Immortals or their proxies remain among the other races, non-human Enchanters exist (though they might be unrecognizable to us). And where there is a claim at lingering or returning gods, there is a claim at Enchantment. The Canticans are widely thought to be true Enchanters, somehow still drawing power from their unseen Ocean goddess. The Mathsrians make declarations about the resurrection of their own gods, though the validity of those claims remains to be seen. In the meantime, the closest thing humanity has to the Enchanters of old are the Sorcerer-Enchanters, who seem to be able to activate long-dead magics and, to some degree, walk the lighted pathways of the Alien Planes. Try as they might, however, Sorcerers may only imitate what was once achieved with the assistance of the gods. Sorcerers Sorcery is a power one is born with, so those who wield it embody a peculiar space between the Mages and Enchanters. Being neither one nor the other, but having no inherent philosophy behind their powers, Sorcerers of significant ability must pick a side. Those who side with Mages learn a highly controlled, precise magic, but may suffer under close scrutiny and limitations. Those who side with the god-worshippers are much more powerful and free, but are left vulnerable to some dangerous physical and social ills. Whatever they choose, however, Great Sorcerers are haunted and harassed by the path unchosen. Rare and powerful as they are, they are wooed aggressively as children, by every institution and interest. When, at an age no older than 12, they finally make a decision as to where and how to train, they are bound to disappoint or injure someone—often themselves. It goes without saying that Sorcerers must overcome or succumb to a great deal of inner-conflict and expectation throughout their lives, complementing (or perhaps yielding) a magic that is raw and unstable; highly intuitive and physically taxing; easy to loose but difficult to master. At their best, Sorcerers become wise, passionate leaders and peacemakers. But more often they grow into reckless and hedonistic wildcards or prickly, withdrawn nihlocrats. Passive Sorcery Broadly speaking, sorcery includes any innate magic, of which there are numerous variations. The majority of this magic is passive, meaning most sorcery is unintentional, often unnoticed as magic entirely. A common form of sorcery, for example, is Resistance—varying degrees of physical or magical hardiness in the face of harm or health. The quality is usually perceived by others as luck or aptitude and brushed off as non-magical, but occasionally resistance manifests in a more dramatic, double-edged way. Those notably unharmed by magic are also not easily healed by it. The one who cannot be burned by fire cannot feel its warmth. Insight (sometimes called Clairvoyance) is another common sorcerous ability that involves a paranormal level of discernment or sensitivity towards a specific phenomena—weather, magic, imminent physical danger, the memories of the dead. Those with the gift may have flashes of inspiration or visions set off by objects, surroundings, phrases, or other triggers. The more powerful Clairvoyants often become Hedge Witches or Diviners of some kind. Subtle sorcery, tied to subconscious wishes and impulses may also be worked into the process of crafting, making music, food, and other labors, imbuing fruition with magical qualities: a song that shapes dreams, a sword that fells with more weight than it carries, a meal that vividly recalls fondest memories, and so on. Those that practice this Passive Ensorcellement, or who possess noticeable Resistance, are rarely called sorcerers outright. They are more often referred to as house witches, warlocks, miracle workers, or given local names and titles. The title of Sorcerer is usually reserved for practitioners of Active Sorcery—those sorcerers of great ability whose power is identified at a young age. Sorcerer-Wilds Historically, Sorcerers were not trained in major institutions, but were sent to study in the remote wilderness under the tutelage of the Hermit Masters, or under Habitants at hidden monasteries, or with Witch Covens and Trivrates, or more often entirely by themselves. These Wildworkers, or Sorcerer-Wilds, practiced a difficult, volatile form of Sorcery called Wildworking, that has become rare today. Instead of intertwining magical Forces, Wildworkers unleashed the raw, undiluted power of a single Force, with awe-inspiring effect, usually a drastic transformation: a man into a beast, a hill into a cathedral, a castle turned inside out. The key to this magic and of all other serious sorcery, is the gift of Hieropathy. While all living creatures can sense and disrupt the magical substrate, Hieropaths can touch and adjust its pressure and flow. That is, if hieroacty is the ability to stick a needle in a mango, hieropathy is the ability to feel what the needle feels; how far in it is, how ripe the mango is, where the seed is, etc. With years physical training and mediation, a Hieropath can disrupt exactly (usually more like approximately) the amount of magic they desire, forgoing any need for mediation to absorb excess force. In effect, they can “ladle the broth from the pot instead of throwing a stone in to catch some splash on their tongue.” Sorcerer-Wilds are master Hieropaths; solitary folk, with impeccable discipline and restraint. Even the most perfect ladle, however, can’t help but spill some broth now and again, and even the most sharply honed Hieropathic skill can blunder and allow sorcery to go haywire. More often, many small blunders over time accumulate into some disturbing side-effects: debilitating, multiphase diseases that come more frequently with age; limbs that pop off without any warning; barrenness or deformed children. Some call it the price for great power. Others see it is a pedagogical crisis meant to harden one’s resolve. The mages believe it is the body’s natural response to absorbing the shock from unsustainable amounts of magical energy. Whatever the case, Wildworking is almost universally forbidden today. And where it is still practiced, few choose it over the relative safety of the Mage or Dalgun institutions. Mage-Sorcerers Sorcerers trained in the mage tradition, sometimes called Magi (singular: Magus) are taught to see the world through the Fundamental Forces and to call forth magic by putting those forces into conflict. But while ordinary mages draw power mostly from the world around them, Mage-Sorcerers are able to rely on their own bodies to produce magic. In a practice called Hieropathic Articulation (archaic: Agulastry), their magic is focused into a unique object—called a Token—conjured by the Sorcerer at will. This object can be anything, but usually takes the form of something recognizable or archetypal: a coin, a ring, a shield, a goblet, a jade comb, a pebble, a flower, a peach. More bizarre tokens are rare but not unheard of: a glass eye, a vial filled with oil, a particularly long fingernail. A Sorcerer-Mage’s magic revolves almost entirely around their token. Like a mage, they may amass a collection of objects, settings, and states of mind to cast spells, but in more advanced sorcery, the token acts as all three; an all encompassing, ever present, totally personalized locus. The token is an object, of course, but it is a mood, too. It shifts subtly in features and ornamentation according to the Sorcerer’s strongest thoughts and emotions. These details, when learned and memorized, can be mapped onto a neutral token to induce a state of mind. The token is a place, too. It can be entered, and within it, a room, shaped like the hollowed out inside of the object, but filled with even more strange objects, figures, creatures, and memory figments, all shifting and transforming with mood. The Sorcerer can hide in this world within their token—or trap others there if they so wish. To cast spells, the Sorcerer-Mage uses their token alone, or in conjunction with other loci. While they may practice any mage discipline, they often pursue wizardry, using their token as their main Loci. This means they aim to master it, to unlock its every secret; they shrink and expand it, twist and contort it, fling it and pour it out. They cut it open and let the world within spill out. The token, some say, is an extension of a Sorcerer’s bodily being; the piece of them that contains the id of magic—that dark, destructive psyche that would turn on them if left untamed. So tokens often surprise, manifesting as incongruent with a Sorcerer’s outward personality, growing larger and stranger with time. The more they are used, the stronger and pricklier they become; the more they begin to take on their own personas and threaten to take over altogether. Sorcerer-Enchanters There is no one kind of Sorcerer-Enchanter (Archaic: Hierophant), just as there is no one Dalgun faith. Sorcerers trained in the Temples of the Gods develop styles and abilities that are as unique as the old pantheons, and as varied in strength and function as the gods were themselves. They might master ancient magical artifacts, understand lost tongues, see unseen worlds, cure incurable diseases... Like a wizard, they may find affinity in a place, or with a kind of object, or with a feeling. But their control over a Loci is instinctual; their connection more intimate and more violent. While a wizard or Mage-Sorcerer may regrow a grove of trees in the span of a week, a Sorcerer-Enchanter might sprout four trees in an instant, with thick trunks that twist together into a shelter. All without really intending to. There is a common feature of Dalgun-trained Sorcery, though: a sign—some script or design burned into a Sorcerer’s side or dripping off a talisman they spit out one morning. The sign is a singular symbol, unique to the Sorcerer—a passport to the Alien Planes. Like the Enchanters of old, Sorcerer-Enchanters may travel the pathways of the gods, though unlike their predecessors, they cannot map their own journey. Their sign only works on certain gates, and not always at will. They must stumble through strange worlds without guidance, groping for the way forward. The Sorcerer, after all, does not wield the key to the heavens; they are themselves the key, the sacred article. As one 2nd century Mathsrian priest wrote, “magic is the speech of gods, given to us. The Sorcerer is but a word within it; a body marked by heavenly hands, whose very flesh is prophecy.” If that sounds disturbingly possessive, it’s only because it is. The Dalgun churches have always had trouble seeing Sorcerers as humans, calling them first abominations, then sacred symbols, and now, increasingly, saviors. Throughout history, Sorcerers have been feared and hunted, then objectified and enslaved—sometimes within a single lifetime. And since the fall of the gods and the collapse of their enchantments, Sorcery has become the only theologically consistent magic left to the Dalgun faiths. The Sorcerer’s role as a sign from the gods has intensified. No priest has the means or desire to physically imprison them anymore, but Sorcerer Enchanters are yet enslaved to a cause—the preservation and revival of the last Dalgun Houses. They are revered, almost deified; desperately adorned with praise, titles, and wealth. They grow attached and obligated to the dying faith that has adopted them. They will go to any length to be its salvation. And in many cases, Sorcerers do much for their Houses; protecting them, promoting them, performing wonders and restoring holy sites. And the Sorcerers receive much in return. Nowhere else are they so loved and appreciated for their gifts, or given such platform to make a difference. But the techniques and practices they learn from crumbling books and moth-eaten scrolls are not enough to safeguard them from the toll that unchecked magic can take. Dalgun Sorcery is inherently painful, for the Sorcerers feel their magic as it happens, like invisible nerve endings, branching out into the world. They might conjure a fortress in a day, but are they prepared to feel the impact of every drill or cannonball? The stronger, more permanent their magic, the more stimulation they feel. And the more powerful, or the longer their spells last, the greater the side-effects—the same afflictions visited on the Wildworkers. The sad truth of Dalgun Sorcery is dead gods can only do so much to shelter their prophets. Witches The terms “witchcraft” and “witch” have long been used to refer generally to unsanctioned magic and magic users, but a more contemporary definition refers to the use of foci to facilitate magic. This takes on two forms: Hedge Witches use minor objects of power (like pendants) or rudimentary potions and rituals to absorb excess Force from a small spell. They are often limited to speeding natural healing processes, easing pain, luring animals, and other subtle, harmless feats. Although they have also been known to cause temporary blindness, or, at their deadliest, encourage a wound to fester. Witches of the Great Covens, or Coven Witches, are much more intimidating. Their foci, shared among the Coven members, is something much more powerful, often much larger—an enslaved magical beast, for instance, or the dismembered limb of a god. Unlike the Arcanists, who tend to mix energies in complex spells, Coven Witches (like Wildworkers) tap into the unrefined, raw power of a single Fundamental Force. This makes for wild, pungent hexes that take on sometimes frightening lives of their own. For this reason, High Witchcraft is usually forbidden and Covens are toxically secretive. Note: To minimize excess, minor witches tend to use objects with little significance and practice magic with clear conscience. Witches might also absorb excess magical energy into themselves (in whole or in part) if they possess a sorcerous Resistance. See the Sorcery section for more. Diviners While there are plenty of fortune tellers that rely on sleight of hand and clever guesses, some Diviners peer into genuine power. True fortune tellers, soothsayers, geomancers and the like, practice their own versions of Hieroception to predict weather, find resources underground, tell the history of objects, reveal moods and flashes of memory, unearth innate wisdom, recommend optimal landscaping, and more. While most are scoffed at by the more sophisticated Arcanists, some achieve such advanced acuity that they are brought on as consultants or teachers in Universities and Temples. Daihus Found mostly in Inner Mozra and Sunya, the Daihus are practitioners of a traditional medicine called Yidait. They combine herbalism with with dietary therapy, acupuncture, geomancy, and energy manipulation to promote health. They remain largely unstudied by Arconologists, but current theories posit that Daihus use natural processes and techniques to awaken a patient’s own connection to the magical substrate, encouraging their bodies to heal and strengthen themselves. Diahu practices are becoming especially popular in major urban centers of the world. Shamans Shamanism originated in Buayuna but is experiencing a massive resurgence in Makala and other pockets of the Old World. It is tied deeply to the religious and spiritual traditions of nomadic local clans. Shamans specialize in entering the Spirit World (what the Dalgun would call the Alien Planes and the Cosmacans would call the Origin) where they seek wisdom and divination, and from which they summon protective or malicious energies and creatures.